I Forgive You For My Error

If you ever have your motives or intentions misconstrued or your words misapprehended, or if you're falsely accused, once you manage to make the other person recognize their error, your counter does not reset. You will remain on probation.

The other person, you see, has applied the faculty of forgiveness. If there's a subsequent violation, you will be afforded much less opportunity to explain.

This isn't a problem for most people, who say normal things and act in normal ways. Most people avoid being misunderstood by constraining themselves to highly-patterned, easily-construed behavior, aka conformity. Add this to the myriad reasons the world encourages us to choose and portray a canned personality type - the bearded teddy bearish dude in fuzzy sweater who says "It's all good" a lot, or the brassy husky-voiced woman full of high-spirited good fun, etc. No surprises, no friction. Social lubrication remains nicely greased.

But if you're the least bit original, or creative, or spontaneous, perils await you far beyond the expected playground-style immune response. It would require multiple leather-bound volumes to catalog the wide-ranging weirdness.

Am I being cynical? Nope. I'm being extraordinarily guileless. The notion of making someone "recognize their error" even once is ludicrously unrealistic.

There's a phrase I've heard over and over which reveals the whole ballgame. It's my rhetorical kryptonite, leaving me weak and defenseless. Upon explaining, with earnest horror, that someone has misunderstood me, I very often get back "No, I understood perfectly." Whereupon my internal organs commence to liquify.

If you can suggest a productive, non-murdery way to receive that response — "No, I understand perfectly" — I will hand over my house, my car, and my prized bagel plates.